The purchase of this pony was indeed one of my father's many kind
thoughts for my welfare and amusement. My odd pilgrimage to the
Rectory in search of change and society, and the pettish complaints of
dulness and monotony at home which I had urged to account for my freak
of "dropping in," had seemed to him not without a certain serious
foundation. Except for walks about the farm with him, and stolen
snatches of intercourse with the grooms, and dogs, and horses in the
stables (which both he and Nurse Bundle discouraged), I had little or
no amusement proper to a boy of my age. I was very well content to sit
with Rubens at Mrs. Bundle's apron-string, but now and then I was, to
use an expressive word, _moped_. My father had taken counsel with Mr.
Andrewes, and the end of it all was that I found myself the master of
the most charming of ponies, with the exciting prospect before me of
learning to ride. The very thought of it invigorated me. Before the
Irish groom went away I had asked if my new steed "could jump." I
questioned my father's men as to the earliest age at which young
gentlemen had ever been allowed to go out hunting, within their
knowledge. I went to bed to dream of rides as wild as Mazeppa's, of
hairbreadth escapes, and of feats of horsemanship that would have
amazed Mr.
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